Thursday, 24 October 2013

I
dream again about tango. A group of friendly, good-natured people
gather for a milonga. But first the floor has to be cleared. It's
strewn with rubbish. Building rubble, waste paper, old clothes,
shoes, broken furniture. Perhaps there was a phantom grand piano, I'm not sure.
Maybe it was an elephant.

I
think it's interesting that I've only dreamed twice in eight or nine
years about tango, given that it's occupied a prominent place in my
consciousness. Twice that I can remember, anyway. I wonder if it's
because the activity itself, dancing, is something of a dream. In
fact neither of my tango dreams has actually been about dancing. A
while back I dreamed of some dreadful future in Buenos Aires in which
people were trying to recreate something they called 'estilo
milonguero'. I laugh and shudder at the memory.

As
to the rubbish-strewn pista, to me that's specific and local. There's
all kinds of rubbish I need to clear out of the way before I can
dance well: perhaps the same goes for the other friendly,
good-natured people too. Specifically, I would say, muscle memories
of stuff that was learned by rote years back, that springs onto the
dance floor partly out of memorisation rather than feeling for the
music, the whole manner of using ready-made movements and attitudes,
a lack of direct, immediate response. I just watched again my video of Pedro
Sanchez dancing with Monica Unzaga: his lead is as supple and flowing
as the music, totally instinctive and fresh throughout, and at the
same time effortlessly adapted to a crowded floor.

Sunday, 13 October 2013

It's
often said that one of the problems of learning from dancers,
especially the older generation, is that although they dance
wonderfully they haven't learned how to teach. & it's true. I
still think you're better off with them: somewhere
along the way what they're doing gets through, and what you've worked to master is yours.

That's
what came to mind after I'd watched the video of Eduardo a number of
times. He's fast. He simply can't slow down to show what he's doing
because he'd lose the impulse, the momentum, which is what feels
right to him. You might feel more comfortable with a trained teacher
who would make sure that everything was cut up in bite-sized pieces for you, but you
might well be missing the vitality in the food, the vitality that's
going to nourish you and your partners long-term. The impetus, the energy. The reason you dance in the first place.

There's one simple solution, slo-mo video.It seemed like a good idea to take a short piece of Patricia Muller's
video and slow it down.

&
it works: the basic but effective use of the feet is clear, as is the
movement of the torso. But what really
came
through to me was something I hadn't clearly seen at full speed, the
delay on the side step Yvonne takes before her back cross, and the long step after it. Eduardo
holds her there a moment so he can match a beat in the music with the emphasis
of the back cross, then the energy of the turn carries her across a long side step. & to do this, of course, his feet need to move.

There's no music playing in this piece, although
it feels as if he's singing audibly as he dances. (I'm told he used
to, and I've noticed his generation of dancers often sing if they are asked to demonstrate without music.) That pause, a breath, gives both of them the chance to prepare
for the back cross, and makes the actual turning much more emphatic
without
looking rushed.
Even
if it is fast.